Red and Gold
by nicnac918
Summary: This is who you really are.


AN: This is my Christmas fic for you guys! Yeah... I am a horrible person.

Also I know that Clark Luthor's gold Kryptonite scar looks more like it's from a burn than a cut, but *waves hand madly* obviously gold Kryptonite causes weird reactions with Kryptonian skin.

* * *

Clark poked at his breakfast despondently. This Christmas break wasn't going at all how he planned.

"For God's sake Clark, sit up straight. Luthors don't slouch," Lionel commanded. Clark mentally rolled his eyes at his father, but did as he said. He even tried to eat with some of his usual enthusiasm; if Lionel suspected Clark was sulking it wouldn't end up well for him.

Of course, that only lasted until he felt his sleeve pull against his scar, because then he _had_ to ask. Wasn't supposed to ask because he couldn't show emotional attachments, couldn't let Lionel _know_, but he had too. "Where's Lex?"

"He's working. Trying to prove that he's not the total wastrel he's spent the past couple years proving he is," Lionel responded, faint notes of distaste in his tone as though he didn't believe such a thing was possible.

Clark bit down on his tongue, _hard_. Hard enough that he could taste the blood welling up before the cut healed over; tongue impeccably whole once again. Lex was not a wastrel. Even he had spent the past few years partying and doing all the things that were the very definition of spoiled rich boy. He was still Lex, Clark's big brother, and not a wastrel or worthless or a waste of space or any of the other things that Lionel liked to imply.

_It doesn't matter if Mom is pregnant with my biological little brother. I'm always going to want you to be my little brother too, Clark._

Unfortunately, though Clark hadn't said anything, Lionel still saw the look on his face. "Really, when are you going to get past this little hero-worship thing you have of Lex? You'll never get anywhere in life if you're following around in his shadow."

Clark crossed his arms and looked mulish. He was _fifteen_; he was supposed to look up to his big brother.

Lionel didn't roll his eyes – it wasn't very Luthor-like – but he somehow managed to give the impression of it anyway. "Stop pouting. It's not as though Lex is purposefully avoiding you," Lionel said, his voice heavy with insinuation. And Clark knew Lionel always lied, he _knew_ it, but he couldn't help but think it might be true. Because Lex was _better_ now, and things were supposed to be like they were before. Clark rubbed his right hand over his scar. They were supposed to be back to normal, but they weren't.

"Of course not," Clark agreed, his voice perfectly even, not betraying a hint of emotion. Not that it fooled Lionel. Not that Clark had really expected it to.

"I want you to wear the ring today," Lionel told him. "Clearly you're out of practice with inhibiting your impulses."

"Do I have – okay," Clark agreed. He hated the ring, but it wasn't worth risking Lionel deciding that Clark was more trouble than he was worth to keep around. Tess had learned that the hard way.

Lionel reached into his pocket and pulled out the lead lined ring box. Obviously, he had been planning on making Clark wear the ring today regardless. Somehow Clark wasn't surprised. Clark took the box from Lionel and opened it to reveal a gold ring with a large and heavy-set red stone. Clark could already start to feel the effects of the red Kryptonite, reaching out like a miasma.

He hated, hated, hated, _hated_ the ring. Hated the way it made him feel, hated the things it made him do and, more so than anything else, hated the way Lionel's voice echoed in his head and told him that _this_ was who he really was. And this time, his big brother might not be there after to remind him that Lionel was a liar and Clark didn't have to be that way if he didn't want to.

_If it bothers you that much, then the Greeks had a ritual where unrelated people became family. You make a cut on your forearms and press them together and then you become blood brothers. _

Clark slipped on the ring.

Confidence and power surged through him, and suddenly Clark couldn't remember what in the world he had been bitching about. This ring was the fucking best thing that ever happened to him. It made him feel better than anything or anyone else ever had, especially a big brother who could be bother to keep his fucking promises because he was too good for Clark now.

Clark smirked. "If you'll excuse me _Dad_," Clark said, dripping as much venom and disdain into the word as possible, "I think I'm going to go have a little chat with Lex."

Lionel smiled like Clark was just _so_ amusing, and Clark wanted to punch the bastard's face in. Would have, except Lionel never went anywhere without a fucking _rainbow_ of kryptonite on him and it wasn't worth it. "Of course, Clark," Lionel said. "I wasn't planning on going into Metropolis today, so I'm sure I'll see you around son."

Translation: I'm going eavesdrop on your conversation. Asshole.

Whatever, it wasn't like Clark gave a fuck. He gave "Dear Old Dad" one last good sneer and sauntered off, plenty slow enough for Lionel to follow him.

Luckily, Lex was in his new "home" office rather than at work – Clark really didn't feel like going out to a shit factory today. And, of course, by "home" Clark meant a fucking castle in the middle of a fucking Kansas cornfield and only Lionel could be that stupidly conceited. "Hey Lex," Clark said smoothly, crossing the room and leaning against the arm of the couch.

Lex looked up and smiled. "Clark. This is a nice surprise." Such a fucking liar.

"Is it really?" Clark asked.

"Frankly I could use a break," Lex said, nodding. "I thought trying to revitalize a failing crap factory was bad, but it's nothing compared to the amount of work I've had to put in after our little terrorist attack earlier this week." When Clark had saved Lex's life again. At least crazed ex-employee was a nice change from drug overdoses and jilted lovers; Clark had _nightmares_ about diamond earrings. "I'm just lucky Dad decide the two of you were going to stay here for your break."

"If you say so," Clark said, not believing a word of it.

"Clark?" Lex asked, then he stopped and really _looked_ at Clark. "Fuck," he swore under his breath.

"Took you long enough," Clark said with a smirk. "Dad would be so disappointed."

"Yes, well forgive me if I don't need the approval of a man who drugs his own son on a regular basis," Lex said disdainfully. Clark just smiled. Such a fucking _liar_. "So what can I do for you?" Lex said, resigned but accommodating. Lex might be willing to do everything possible to piss Lionel off, but even he knew better to fuck with Clark when he was riding high on red K.

Clark stood up and wandered closer to Lex's desk. "Mostly I just wanted to ask you a question-"

_I found it in Dad's lab; it's gold Kryptonite and it's supposed to make you react like a normal human. That way we can cut into your skin without hurting you more than we have to._

"-why have you been avoiding me?"

"Avoiding you?" Lex said, voice drenched with disbelief. Poor Lex never could do subtle when he was lying. "I haven't been avoiding you; I've just been swamped with work. Hopefully, things will be a little less hectic this week, and worst case I promise I'm yours all day on Christmas, okay?"

"Lex, Lex, Lex." Clark shook his head. "I'm not just talking about this week; I'm talking about the past three and a half years." Lex looked genuinely confused and Clark resisted the urge to shake his head again. He really didn't have a clue did he? "Does partying all night, sticking your dick in any girl you could get your hands on, doing everything you can to piss off Dad, and generally not having any time for your little brother except when he's dragging your wasted ass to bed ring any bells?"

Lex couldn't have looked any more shocked if Clark had slapped him. "Clark I – you have to know that had nothing to do with you. Dad had just kicked Tess out for no reason and I… had something to prove, I guess. But you're right, that wasn't fair to you, and I'm sorry."

How sweet. And if Clark didn't think Lex was just trying to cover his ass, Clark might have even forgiven him. Probably not though. "You know what I think? I think you were just scared that you were just like Tess, not special enough, so you had to prove that no matter what you did, Daddy wasn't going to throw you out like yesterday's garbage. And you know what else you are?" Clark asked, sidling around the desk and up behind Lex. "You're jealous. Because no matter what you do, you'll never be as special as me, will you? Jealous of your baby brother, it's something of a theme with you."

Lex stiffened and paled. "You know what Clark, if you're going to be an ass why don't you go bother someone who deserves it? We can talk this evening, when you're yourself again."

"Someone who deserves it?" Clark said, rage stealing over him, fast and furious. He grabbed Lex and threw him against the wall, just hard enough to bruise. "Do you have any idea, any idea at all, what it's like to be twelve years old and have a big brother who _promised_ to protect you," Clark grabbed Lex's left forearm and squeezed, "and to drag that brother home bleeding from a stab wound because he can't even fucking take care of himself?"

"Clark I-"

Clark's hand darted forward and grabbed Lex by the throat, crushing his grip tight and cutting off all Lex's attempts to speak. "No more talking for you. You are going to _listen_. You were supposed to look out for me and you never did. My little brother _died_, and Tess and I had to put our grief aside to take care of you because you were so freaked out and no one else was going to do it. And then when Mom was sick, Dad didn't care, and Tess wasn't allowed in because she 'wasn't family' and you were off on some snipe hunt, so I had to sit in that hospital while she died, all alone. And then Tess got kicked out and I was terrified I would be next, but I couldn't go to you because you were too busy getting high."

When Clark first grabbed Lex, Lex had scrabbled at his hand, trying to pull Clark off of him. But as Clark continued, Lex's hands started slowing down until the fell, hanging limply at his sides. That only pissed Clark off more; Lex was supposed to fight back dammit. Clark pulled his fist back and imagined Lex's head shattering, blood and bone and brains everywhere. He let his fist fly-

_We can do it today, on Christmas. That way it can be like our Christmas gift to each other._

-and hit the wall next to Lex. The stone shattered. Clark stepped back in horror. Lex's body slid to the ground.

"Lex! No, Lex! Wake up Lex, please wake up! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, just please wake up." Clark's vision blurred and he started choking on his words as he practically launched himself at the floor, searching Lex for a breath, a pulse, _anything_. His hands fluttered uselessly over Lex's body; he broke this so he should be able to _fix_ it.

"I admit your measures are a bit more drastic than I expected," Lionel drawled, stepping out of the gloom, "but you seem have very effectively stepped out of your brother's shadow. Congratulations."

"But I didn't – I never –"

"Come now, Clark, I saw you with your hands around Lex's throat. You can't expect me believe that someone else did this. Or maybe it was an _accident_?" Lionel sneered, his tone mocking. Mocking Lex who was – oh God – dead and Clark had killed him.

"It wasn't me!" Clark protested and he didn't know who he was trying to convince: Lionel, himself, or Lex's corpse. "It was, it was the ring."

"The ring? We both know that that ring doesn't do anything more than set your inhibitions loose; it can't make you do anything you don't _really_ want to. This," Lionel gestured, encompassing the whole of the situation, "is who you really are."

This is who you really are.

A murder.

Because Lex was dead and Clark had killed him.

There were mottled purple bruises around Lex's throat, almost, but not quite, in the shape of Clark's hands. One of his sleeves had rucked up, exposing paler lines against pale skin.

_No, not 'L' for 'Luthor,' 'L' for 'Lex.' And mine will be a 'C,' for 'Clark.'_

Clark's hands were clean, pristine even. There should be blood on them.

"It's a good thing I stayed here today. I'll need to call some people to clean this up," Lionel said, nudging Lex with his toe, disgust written on the lines of his face.

There should be blood on Clark's hands. So people would know.

This is who you really are.

"I'm going to go out," Clark heard himself saying. "Maybe run to Metropolis. Start celebrating the holidays Luthor style."

This is who you really are.

Lionel smiled, all sharp edges and desire to devour everything good. "Good idea son. Make sure plenty of people see you too; giving yourself an alibi can't possibly hurt."

Clark nodded. "I'll be back by lunch."

That should be long enough. To do what he needed to do.

Because there should be blood on his hands.

And this is who you really are.

A monster.

_There, now it's official. I'm always going to be your big brother, Clark, and I'll always protect you._


End file.
